


Reckonin' a-coming

by Bill_Longbow, roseandthorns28



Series: fire and brimstone [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Build up for Stuckony, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, angel!Steve, demon!Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22128034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandthorns28/pseuds/roseandthorns28
Summary: Tony wakes up alone and hungover after a passionate night with a demon.James feels the looming threat over him and runs to protect the only man to show him kindness.Steve senses a great displacement in the equilibrium and begins his hunt.A half-assed summoning leads to unwitting consequences that shake up the status-quo in all three realms: Heaven, Earth, and Hell.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: fire and brimstone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1128428
Comments: 38
Kudos: 119
Collections: WinterIronShield*





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's taken so long for us to get here but the sequel to "Blood on my name" is finally here! It won't make much sense unless you read the other one. We'll try our best to get this out as soon as possible but please bear with us if we're slow in updating cause RL is a real pain in the butt. 
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this instalment!

_It can't be._

Steve frowns and concentrates, willing to make sense of the disturbance. There has to be some kind of alternative explanation, because there was no indication this one would be sent out again… He tries to locate it, a pinprick of dark energy where none should be, but even as Steve focusses on it the energy changes, spiking wildly before dulling again.

_Your presence is required, Captain._

He has no idea what to make of it. The energy spike unnerves him, but someone needs to deal with it, and fast. 

_I’ll don my armour._

_Yes. Hurry._

_________________

Tony wakes up to light filtering in through the blinds and grumbles at JARVIS to shut off the sun. It takes a moment for him to register the lack of a pithy comeback as well as the continued presence of the searing sunlight and he sits up unable to stop his wince when the jarring movement causes him to feel a dull pulsating pain in his ass, and a sharp dizziness in his head. 

“Fuck….” He breathes out, groping blindly at the side of the bed for his phone. It takes another full minute of squinting at the phone through bleary eyes to access the seldom used home-control app he’d developed as a pre-JARVIS, and get the blackout curtains to slide shut.  
  
“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping his phone onto the sheets and rubbing at his forehead. God, what did he do last night…. 

When he can finally open his eyes, he looks around in the low light at the mussed up, torn sheets, the throbbing of his asshole, the sweet ache of a well fucked body…. Did he really – did that really happen? God, if he weren’t feeling it with every movement he made to climb out of bed, Tony would have assumed that he’d gotten shitfaced last night and had the world’s longest, most involved wet dream. 

“J? You there?” He asks his voice hoarse and mouth dry as the fucking Sahara. “JARVIS?” 

“Beta JARVIS is online. Awaiting connection with the network. Diagnosis report number 7834 is read for perusal.” 

Tony groans and buries his head in the pillow, the pillow that still smells like spunk and ozone. It’s the overabundance of the physical evidence of the events of last night that won’t let him write it off as a whiskey induced hallucination. 

Can he just not do today?

He doesn’t even want to think about the way his stomach is roiling and his chest _hurts_. It’s probably just heartburn. The way too much alcohol and not enough food kinds. Not… anything else with heart in the beginning and a different b word at the end. Something that rhymes with fake. 

Sheesh. He really needs to get his shit together. 

Before he can even contemplate whether dragging his dehydrated body to the kitchen is worth the effort of gaining some refreshing, thirst quenching water – or if its better to just waste away but not have to move – there’s a series of loud knocks from the front door, followed by an incessant ringing of the doorbell. 

A pattern that is by now extremely familiar, even to Tony’s frazzled neurons.

Oh god. What is even his luck? 

Tony pushes himself off of the bed with a whine, and wraps the sheet around his hips, stumbling towards the door, carefully picking his way around the shattered glass and fallen over furniture. Damn, he had no idea this was the level of destruction caused last night. 

He avoids looking at the scorch mark on the rug, the entry point of the demon who’d managed to not only rock Tony’s world in the bedroom department but also give him a glimpse of something more tender and precious before taking it all away with him as he turned tail and ran – literally in his case. 

Not that he cares, he’s Tony fucking Stark. So what if he has to recalibrate his entire existence and ideology to include _magic_ or whatever _non-magic energy manipulation_ that shit was. So what if he has to reconcile with the idea that he’s done the do with a denizen of Hell. So what if it was the best night of his life. So what if he feels sick, sore, and utterly bereft. 

None of that matters. Usual one-night-stand protocols apply. With slightly more property destruction than he’s used to. 

The knocks come again, this time accompanied by an exasperated call of his name, and damn, does the loud noise hurt his head. Grumbling in annoyance, he unlatches the door and swings it open.

"Hey, Obie."

_________________

James knew it wouldn't last, but he hadn't expected them to come this quickly. Cradling his love like he did, he had been foolish enough to hope for a brief respite. A day, maybe two. 

There have been other times where he had the opportunity to disappear. The recollections are vague, they'd done their best to erase them, erase all that amounted to him being _James_ , but he knows he disappeared for months once, before they came looking. It must've been the way his human gave him back the reins to his mind that set them off this time. The breaking of a spell is as powerful as the binding of one. 

While he was slumbering there had been a clear disturbance in the aether that announced an arrival. His very essence was so used to alertness, so attuned to the aether he had woken at once. They weren’t close - they obviously didn't know exactly where he was - but close enough. Too close. 

As quickly as he could, he had left a slumbering Pulchellus, vowing to himself to keep his lover safe at all costs, and sneaked away into the early dawn. 

The cold bites his skin after the warmth of his _Tony_ , but it's refreshing in a way he doesn’t recognize. He's used to being cold. Weapons don't get dressed, not even when they sleep in the coldest part of their master's fortress, but this cold is different, isn't bonedeep. It tickles the skin and makes his breath come out in little white clouds that are almost… joyous. 

It's easy to acquire suitable clothing without leaving a trace - humans are careless with their possessions - and when he's dressed he lopes off with long strides. Time to lead his captors away and devise a plan. 

_________________

_It’s moving._

_A trap. Locate its origin._

_Affirmative._


	2. Chapter 2

_1732_

_No no no no no no._

Steve kicks and thrashes with all his might in the man's arms. He's not even sure who's holding him back at this point, all he knows is that he needs to get to Bucky. He saw _everything,_ he needs to explain they have the wrong boy, but no one ever listens to Sara Rogers' kid with his crooked spine and fanciful ideas. If you can't work the land you're a burden, simple as that. 

He throws his head back with as much force as he can muster and feels grim satisfaction when it connects with the man's nose with a dull crack. 

He's dropped to the ground and though the smoke that still lingers hurts his chest and eyes, he runs as fast as his short legs can carry him. He weaves his way through the crowd just in time to see Bucky step into a huge black carriage. 

"No!" Steve yells, but it's too late. He runs after them but there's no way he can keep up with the carriage once it picks up speed, misshapen and sickly as he is. He falls to his knees on the soot covered road and weeps. 

_All his fault._

________________________________

A heavy hand falls on Tony’s shoulder and he startles slightly before looking up into the concerned gaze of his godfather. 

“Sorry, Obie, you scared me.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I just wanted to tell you that the board meeting is taken care of. I gave them our usual spiel about you working on a new idea. And not a hint of your rager last night is going to be on the news, I’ll make sure of it.” 

Tony gives him a tremulous smile. When he’d opened the door in the morning, his godfather had taken one look around and assumed Tony had held a destructive party a la his younger days. The level of destruction and Tony’s hangover hadn’t really done much to disprove his assumption and it was as good a cover as any.

“Thanks, Obie. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo. Now, you got something for me?” 

“Ugh, my head is killing me.”

“I’m sure it’ll come to you. Just remember that we need something to show to the board at the end of the month. I know you won’t make a liar out of me,” Obie says, squeezing Tony’s shoulder before he leaves.

Tony winces, his shoulder throbbing where Obie had put pressure on a bite he hadn’t even realised he’d accumulated along with all his other bruises in the shape of fingers on his hips, love bites scattered all over his body, and a few imprints of teeth. 

He sighs, faceplanting into his desk with a muttered, “Ow.” 

On one hand he’s glad Rhodey freaked out enough to call Obie to check on him - both because he didn’t want his best friend to take an emergency leave and come check on him and because he knew that if nobody pulled him out of his head in those few hours after waking up, he would have spiralled hard. 

On the other, he kind of wishes he didn’t have to go through this whole song and dance with Obie, to face the day and the pressures being the CEO brought – recalcitrant board members, demanding government contracts. God, he just needs a damn break. Maybe some time to deal with the implications of what happened last night. 

But then again, Tony was never the slow-down-and-take-it-in kinds. He's always the pump-the-gas-and-push-through-things kind. He doesn’t want to think of his latest heartbreak and the paradigm shift he experienced seeing proof of things beyond the physical material reality, and the way he lost his mind to lust and _fucked a demon_. What even. 

Yeah, maybe it’s better that Obie pushed him to get cleaned up and deposited him in his lab because if he’d been left to his own devices, Tony’s sure he’d be deep into a bottle somewhere in the ruined penthouse. 

Speaking of… 

“JARVIS, what’s the status on the install in the penthouse?” 

“Almost complete, Sir. The memory banks from before the incident and from JARVIS Beta post incident are being synced. There is still a gap in the surveillance and memory files between the two time points, however, I will be fully functional in the penthouse in thirty minutes.” 

“Good. I’ll authorise the new data backup cycle. And once that is done, call the cleaners and the maintenance contractor.” 

“Of course, Sir. I’ll avail the Afterparty Package they specifically designed for you.” 

“Should I rename that one to Hell Hath No Fury or… Dancing with the Devil?” 

“Do you intend on repeating the events of last night?” 

Tony can sense the censure in JARVIS' robotic tone and he feels highly judged by his own creation. “I don’t know what I intend, J. I don’t even know how much of that _was_ something _I_ intended or….” He trails off even though he feels like he’s certain that the only influence on his mind was that of alcohol but even then, he can’t _know_ for sure, can he? 

He was certain that he’d done it, had sex with Bucky because he was attracted to him, because he was lonely, and he wanted to be desired. 

He’d loved every second of it because it was toe-curlingly pleasurable and dangerous and surprisingly gentle but how much of it really was _him_ and could he ever completely disprove that his mind hadn’t been messed with? 

It hurts him to think that Bucky might have put him under some sort of spell or some lust pollen or _something_ to scratch a century old itch. But why wouldn’t he, if he could? Tony was drunk and stupid and easy pickings. 

“Sir?” 

“Sorry, lost in my thoughts. Just get the crew to clean up and give me an estimate on the time needed to repair the broken shit.” 

“I shall.” 

JARVIS goes quiet at that and Tony is left with his own buzzing thoughts. Sighing, he pulls out his new phone and dials, waiting as the call connects, unsure of what he’ll say but knowing that he’ll feel better after talking. 

“Hey, Rhodeybear...” 

________________________________

The city has changed a lot since he last came here. Everything is fast now. Loud. Buildings look designed to try and reach our heavenly Father; huge expanses of glass mirroring the midday sky. 

Steve feels… unpleasant in the modern day's robe. The trousers are too tight and chafe in uncomfortable places, and the shoes are so flimsy he might as well wear nothing on his feet. It needs to be done though. The days where an elevated can make an appearance are long gone. As he watches the crowd go past, all lost in their own little bubble – the mobile devices one of the most successful inventions by the other side – he doubts there will be many who still know about his kind, who still _believe_. 

The signal petered out and died soon after he arrived, which can mean any number of things. At the very least it means he has to hurry.

Steve locates the place where the signal originated easily. It's in one of the tallest buildings of the city, and he rides the elevator to the top floor with a crew of workmen. They believe his white lie that he's part of another crew, and he scouts the penthouse thoroughly. There's no doubt this is the right place, but of the owner or the demon there's no trace. The place is a mess. There's clearly been some kind of struggle, and the whole place reeks of sex. Nothing useful though. No spellbooks, pentagrams, or any other paraphernalia these bastards usually keep lying around. The work crew treats it like they encounter this kind of thing every day, and Steve amuses himself by helping them clear out the ruined carpet and putting in new. 

At the end of the day Steve bids the other workers farewell as they leave, and settles in a big armchair to wait, his sword on his knees.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, JARVIS, I’m almost through the front door and then I can fix the issue with the security cams. Please tell me all the other systems are fine?” Tony asks with an exhausted sigh as he enters the passcode to the penthouse on the elevator. 

“All systems in the penthouse are fully operational with the exception of the cameras and microphones which experienced an outage since 3:45 in the afternoon.” 

“And you didn’t find anything in the troubleshoot?” he whines in response. He was really hoping to just fucking kick back, have a glass of wine, a longass bath, and get some sleep. Towards the end of the day, the various aches and pains in his body had started making themselves known, and while it excited him to feel out the hand shaped bruises on his hips, the soreness in his ass was kind of an issue given he had to sit through meetings without squirming. 

Not to mention how exhausting it was to give Rhodey some spiel about having ‘mistakenly’ called a service last night – before his call to his best friend – that catered to some very exotic tastes to explain away last night and calm him down. Predictably, his best friend _didn’t_ want to hear about the details. 

It killed Tony a little to lie to Rhodey like that, to hear the disappointment in his tone when he asked if Tony was planning on doing shit like that again. 

It wasn’t technically untrue, he’d called a _sex demon_ but that was besides the point. The transaction was more or less the same. Although what the payment for that might be is something Tony really doesn’t care to think about. 

Let Bucky take his immortal soul or whatever, he had more immediate concerns like the fact that the camera mounted on his penthouse door was apparently working just fine despite the fact that it was on the same sub-system as the ones inside. 

The lock and alarm system disengages as Tony enters through the front door, manually looking through J’s logs regarding the integration between him and the Beta version from the day, his AI’s voice in his ear through the bluetooth. 

“Okay, seems like this happened after the integration, and the logs look clean so I don’t know what could- _fuck_!” Tony exclaims as he looks up, dropping his phone in shock. 

Sitting on the armchair right across from him is well, a goddamn specimen of a man, with a goddamn _sword_ resting casually on his knees as if breaking into someone’s place and waiting for them with a sword was just another Tuesday. 

“Sir, my systems indicate a large heat source in the room.” 

“Yeah, I see it.” Tony says, eyes trailing all over the man – flitting across bright blue eyes, pink lips, the killer jawline, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, thick thighs and then back up again – or is he even a man? Or is he like…. 

“Shall I deploy intruder protocols?” 

“No, wait, I – Ix-nay, Jay. And you,” Tony points at the blond adonis, “how did you get in and more importantly, did you fuck with my surveillance inside?” 

  
  


Steve frowns when a… a _boy_ steps through the door. It must be the homeowner's son, and Steve is prepared to be gentle with him – sins of your fathers aren't transferable, no matter what Gabriel says – until the kid has the gall to try and bully Steve. 

He stands, and in four long strides has he closed the distance between them and is holding his swordpoint at the boy's throat. 

"Where is the fiend?" he asks, looming over the boy. 

_"Sir? Are you alright?"_ A tinny voice comes from the little communication device that the kid dropped when he saw Steve. Without moving his sword, Steve squashes the thing with his heel. The kid's parents are out with the demon, and it won't do if the kid uses the device to call for their help before Steve can interrogate him. 

  
  


Tony’s breath seizes up at the feeling of the pointy end of the sword digging in under his sword. It holds his head at an upturned angle looking into the blond’s bright blue eyes. 

The crunch of electronics and glass draws his gaze away from the flecks of green in those eyes to the ground where the blond asshole has his obliterated phone under his heel. 

“Are you serious? That’s the second phone in two days! Jesus fucki-” He cuts off abruptly when the tip of the sword digs in further. 

There’s a part of him - his self preservation instincts perhaps that are yelling at him to submit, to give this man what he wants but there’s a larger part of Tony that’s _angry_ , that’s just tired, and that doesn’t care at this point.

Tony swallows, glaring up at the asshole. “You don’t get to break into my house, hold a fucking sword to my neck and interrogate me. I don’t even know what you’re talking about and if this is some ploy to kidnap me or whatever then bringing a renaissance weapon instead of a gun is kind of dumb, don’t you think?” 

  
  


Steve studies the boy. He's like an angry little kitten, all hisses and claws, but ultimately harmless. Though it won't do to underestimate him. Steve takes in the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his neck that peeps above his shirt, the weary slant of his shoulders. It all pales at the look in the boy's eyes. 

Steve straightens and sheaths τιμή on his back. 

"You don't care if you live or die," Steve nods to himself. These are the most dangerous ones, in his experience. The greedy, the proud, the lecherous; they all follow a predictable trail, and are thus easily outmanoeuvred. The ones that have given up though, they are erratic and should be handled with care. 

"I'm not here to kidnap you," he continues, folding his arms in front of his chest, "but to request your help."

A display of power will likely only aggravate the boy, but showing humility might help.   
  


Tony feels stripped raw under the powerful gaze of the intruder, his words hitting him like pieces of glass. It takes him a second to recover from being so blatantly exposed before his high society breeding kicks in and he straightens up, throwing his shoulders back slightly and wearing a grin as armour. 

Not like he’s been left with much else, he has no means of communication, no weapons on him, and he has a feeling that if he were to try to run the guy would probably have no issues catching up with Tony’s bruised ass - pun intended. 

“It’s quite rude of you to not even tell me your name before requesting my help. If you wanted a meeting, you should’ve just called my secretary. There was no need for theatrics, handsome.” 

Tony moves towards the wine rack, keeping an eye on the blond. The guy’s either some arms dealer mob boss kinds or – and Tony hates that he’s even thinking this – another preternatural being. Either way, he’s dangerous. 

“But now that you’re here, why waste a good opportunity?” He continues, Maria Starks training coming through with flying colours, _stiff upper lip, bambino_ , “How about we sit down and have a conversation like civilised men over a glass of wine,” he slides out a decent enough bottle of red from the rack and keeps a firm grip on it, “and you can tell me all about who you are, who you work for, and what you want from me.” 

A flickering catches Tony’s eye as he speaks and he glances over to the overhead light blinking in morse. C...O...A. _Course of Action?_

Good ol’ JARVIS, he thinks with a sense of fondness. He needs to get to the control panel, it’ll be better if he can get JARVIS his eyes and ears back.

Tony shifts to face the guy squarely, “Provided you let me restore my AI back to his former self.” His voice is hardened and leaves no room for negotiation on this point. 

The kid's got spunk, Steve has to give him that, though he doesn't care for the attitude at all. He wonders what the lad faces on a regular basis to try and threaten someone easily a head taller and with a broad sword on his back. Steve's almost sure the boy knows about the summoning, and decides to cut through the chase. Every second dawdling here can endanger an innocent's soul. 

"You can call me Polemistés," he answers, and unfolds his wings. For a second the whole apartment is bathed in a golden light, before he pulls them back and takes up the guise of a human again. 

The kid stands gaping at him, and Steve takes the opportunity to step closer until he looms over him. "You _will_ tell me everything you know about the demon that was unleashed here recently, to prevent catastrophe and save your mortal soul."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> τιμή = Ancient Greek for Honour 
> 
> Polemistés = Ancient Greek for Warrior


	4. Chapter 4

There is only so much shock a person can endure before they stop reacting to it. Suppression is a powerful tool that Tony masters in. All of last night was an assault on his scientific world view and when the blinding light fades leaving behind an impression of giant wings still underneath his eyelids, Tony leaves his skepticism at the door and rolls with it. 

If it weren't for JARVIS' acknowledgement of both the intruders, he'd think he's lost the plot. Angels and Demons, what even is his life.

Tony takes stock of the man - nope, the angel? Really? Who knew angels were less Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life and more Paul Bettany from Legion. Although, it’s a pity he’s not shirtless. 

And what the hell kind of name even is Polemistees ( _Greek, translation: warrior_ ), it’s not even a name it’s a designation. It’s like Tony calling himself The Mechanic. 

“You need to lighten up, Hercules,” Tony says patting the… being’s ( _bleh_ ) shoulder. “Nobody cares about my mortal soul, least of all me.” 

Tony always knew he was going to hell even before he knew hell was real but it seems like a very _immediate_ possibility with the way the dude ( _or is he a dude? Does gender apply to non-human entities?_ ) is glaring at Tony. 

He swallows but holds his ground. There’s a feeling of protectiveness that he’s feeling for Bucky, despite the fact that earlier today he was contemplating whether the demon had put him under a spell. 

But Bucky had been nothing but kind to Tony and it wasn’t like he promised him anything other than a good fuck, but _this_ guy was kind of a dick, a very very hot dick but a dick and also seemed all heavenly fire and brimstone and well, Tony wasn’t about to throw Bucky under the bus to save himself.   
  


Steve has to mentally count to ten to prevent himself from shaking some sense into the kid, and glares at him instead. He doesn't understand what's so difficult about the concept of endless torture that is so hard to grasp. 

_"_ Maybe you _do_ care about the safety of others, or have you been corrupted that far already?" Steve demands, voice rising. He can't believe the callousness of this boy. "Everywhere this creature goes, death and destruction follow in its wake. I've seen entire villages lain to waste; every man, woman and child slaughtered, and _those_ were the lucky ones. You don't want to know what happened to those it took back to its masters."

Steve swallows thickly to reign in his anger and push back the images that accost him, of all the victims he has failed to save. 

"I need to know who summoned the Winter Soldier and why." 

Tony feels like a chastened child and he hates it, hates how it reminds him of Howard, of the board members who treat him like a child, as if he’s not smarter than _all_ of them combined, as if he’s not had to grow up before he even had the chance to be a child. 

The wine bottle hangs limply from his hand and his society training leaves him – nothing to offer in the face of _this_ , this incomprehensible situation that he knows _nothing_ about navigating. 

He thought he knew the world but then Bucky happened, and now he doesn’t even know who Bucky _is_ anymore because blondie here just called him _‘soldier’_ and how Bucky - the Winter Soldier - is going cause more destruction and the implication hanging heavy between them that it’s Tony’s fault. Again. 

“You know, I have a feeling you haven’t been to this world in a long time, not in the last few decades anyway,” Tony says, placing the wine bottle on the nearest surface and moving to the control panel. 

There’s no use in the charade and Tony’s a bit too tired to even try to play the double-speak game right now - not that the dude would appreciate that much. He’s too straightlaced for that, cutting to the point like maybe his sword would cut through Tony too if he doesn’t give him the answers he wants. But if that is in fact what he has to look forward to, he’s going to at least bring his youngest creation back to his former self. 

“Or else you’d have known that we, as humans, have already done and pretty much continued to do just that to each other. I mean for generations my family has been involved in making weapons for the military - bombs to blow up cities, bullets that tear through people like paper, drones to hunt them down like dogs,” he says, gaining access to the core protocols of JARVIS and rebooting the surveillance system. 

“I’m sitting on a legacy of blood and destruction - the public agrees, someone called us ‘merchants of death’ on twitter recently. Got a nice ring to it. Point is, Paul, you’re gonna have to do better than to try and guilt trip me.”   
  


Steve can't help the frustrated growl that leaves his throat and he wipes an agitated hand over his face. He's not equipped for this. They asked him for this case because he's one of the few able to best the Winter Soldier. This negotiating with sullen teenagers is _not_ his forte.

He feels for the kid, he really does, but he almost feels every second ticking by. 

"It's not a guilt trip. It's a stating of facts. _Please,"_ he pleads and walks over to put his hand on the boy's shoulder. 

"It's never too late to atone, never. Believe me, I know…" 

_A huge black carriage trundling away -- too fast for a vehicle that heavy -- through fields grey with rained down soot and ash…_

"Please?" 

Tony swallows at how _close_ Tall, Blond, and Handsome suddenly is, the way those blue eyes are boring into his soul, the weight of his warm, _large_ , hand heavy on Tony’s shoulder. 

His hands stutter on the panel where he’s been getting the systems back up and running and he has a sudden urge to reassure the guy, this ancient ethereal warrior who looks - damn, he looks like Tony does sometimes in the mirror. 

Guess guilt is universal. 

“I - I don’t know what you want from me,” Tony says and he wants it to come out dismissive but some wires must get crossed somewhere cause he sounds _needy_.

Tony can’t stand being in this powerful being’s orbit any longer and he pulls away a little, causing Blondie’s hand to brush against a bitemark Bucky left underneath his t-shirt and he winces slightly. 

It does wonders to clear his head though. 

Getting back some of the resolve, Tony clears his throat. “I don’t have any incentive to help you other than your word. What’re you gonna do to you if I tell you? What - How are you going to stop _him_ from doing whatever you think he might do? How can I trust you?” 

_And what was your incentive to call forth a demon?_

Steve doesn’t give voice to that thought, because he knows the kid won’t answer it. And he’s getting fed up with calling the kid ‘kid’.

“I told you my name, but I still don’t know who you are,” he says softly, instead of answering. He has the feeling the kid wants to be good, Steve saw a sliver of that when the kid’s armour cracked just now. He wants to be good, but has been damaged so badly already the only option seems to fight and hurt others.

“Sir?”

Steve whirls around and whips out his sword in one fluid movement when suddenly there’s another male in the room, but he sees nobody. Is this the boy’s father? Did he bring the demon? Instinctively he places himself between the kid and the rest of the room, sheltering him from whatever comes next, as he scans the room for the next threat. 

Tony can’t help but startle into a disbelieving chuckle at the hunk’s reaction. On one hand, it’s always hilarious to see people jump three feet in the air when they first meet J, and it’s kinda funny to especially see someone pull a sword on an incorporeal AI. On the other, did he just throw himself in front of Tony like some shield made out of muscle and sheer determination. And that second thing - that second thing causes Tony’s amusement to fade into incredulity and disbelief because who _does that_ for someone they barely know and don’t like? Who has ever planted themselves in front of Tony like that before? 

“Hey, easy, soldier,” he replies, placing a hand on the broad, tense shoulder in front of him, softer than he would have if the traitorous second thought hadn’t come into his head. Or maybe not because he can justify that he’s just trying to match the guy’s energy - the soft, understanding tone that he was using on Tony. Which totally didn’t affect Tony one bit. No siree. 

“S’just JARVIS. He’s an AI - uh, a computer? Like a machine?” 

_Does this ancient warrior even know what a computer is?_

“He takes care of - well, everything. JARVIS, it’s good to have you back, buddy but unclench. Polemistés and I are just having a chat, right?”   
  


"If you say so, sir. Systems are fully back online, Home Alone protocols reinstated. It's a pleasure to meet you, mister Polemistés."

Steve relaxes at the kid's explanation, and resheathes his sword with a decisive snick. Steve doesn't know a lot about modern technology. Just enough to get by and not stand out on missions. He hadn't realized humanity has managed to create intelligence yet, but he isn't surprised. 

"The pleasure is mine, mister Jarvis. I hope I didn't offend."

"Not at all," Jarvis replies formally, which Steve reads as _I've got my eye on you._ Maybe Jarvis can help his cause, so Steve wants to stay friendly. He turns back to the kid and offers a sad smile. 

"I still don't know your name." The contractors had talked about a mister Stark, but he guesses that's the kid's father. The whole place is too grand, too barren for a teenager to live in. 

Tony breathes a sigh of relief as the intruder and surveillance protocols are reinstated and JARVIS is back to full functioning. God help any other preternatural being that fucks with his AI. 

Although, this being in particular is fucking with Tony’s carefully crafted semblance of control by calling J, ‘mister’ and being all polite and damn. It says something that while most humans dismiss JARVIS as an advanced computer, this dude who probably doesn’t even _know_ what a computer is, is talking to him like a person. 

Let no one know that the way to Tony’s good graces is through his bots. A curious question pops into his mind about how this warrior would behave when confronted by the overgrown robot child that is DUM-E. 

Nope, not going there. There’s no way he’s letting anyone into the sanctity of his workshop. 

Realising that the aforementioned warrior is waiting on his response, Tony clears his throat and throws his arms out expansively, “Tony Stark, at your service. Surprising you don’t know who I am seeing as you’re standing in the middle of my penthouse. And do you go by something that’s not as much of a mouthful cause that’s gonna get old soon, buddy. I mean you got the look down,” He adds, indicating the casual wear the dude’s wearing, albeit asynchronous with the sword, “but how about a more normal name like Paul or John or Ringo.” 

  
"You live here by yourself?" Steve asks incredulously, and looks around at the bare decor. There's nothing personal, nothing _comfortable_. It's all stainless steel and glass surfaces. It screams loneliness, and Steve thinks he understands a little of the dead look in the boy's, in Tony's, eyes. 

Lonely or not, there's still always a choice. The choice to _not_ summon a creature from hell, for instance. The thought helps Steve to keep himself from going over and pull Tony in a hug, however much the kid might need the comfort. 

On second thought… Tony consequently responded favourably when Steve acted soft…

Steve takes the two steps that separate them and pulls Tony into a gentle but firm hug. _Let the kid think this is what creatures of heaven do_ , Steve thinks, partly to deny he might like the touch himself. Bizarrely, Tony smells familiar, like home, and Steve unconsciously leans closer. 

Tony freezes as Mr. Built-like-a-linebacker comes closer, tensing up for a second as he’s _hugged_?! “Woah! Okay, Huggy bear, we’re doing this then.”

His thought process stutters and his arms hang loosely before coming up to rest hesitantly on those broad, _firm_ , shoulders. Jesus, when’s the last time he’s been hugged? Bucky had held him close but that had been during sex. Before that, Rhodey maybe? Sunset never wanted to hold him, and towards the end with Ty the touches were something Tony avoided. 

No one can blame him for taking advantage and melting into the embrace a little. The dude is strong and warm and smells a little ozoney which is for some reason hot as fuck. 

“I - I can live alone, I’m not a child. I’m 25, I own a multibillion dollar company, for God’s sake,” Tony mumbles into the guy’s shoulder. “I’m a grown ass man, you don’t need to - I don’t need pity hugs. Or pity fucks.” His hands belie his words as he grips the angel tighter and lets some of the weight fall from his shoulders. 

What does it say about his life that the only people who see right through him don’t even exist on this plane of reality. 

“I’m okay. Don’t need you stupid magic people coming and fucking up my equilibrium with your stupid soulful eyes and stupid names like Polemistés and Bucky.” 

Steve lets Tony prattle. Steve's surprised he's twenty-five -- he looks a lot younger -- but Tony's age doesn't do anything to diminish his need to be touched as he all but melts against Steve. Steve wasn't made for this. He was elevated as a warrior, a blunt tool. It's the angels' job to comfort and guide, not his, but damn has he been missing out and the _smell…_

Suddenly he tenses up. 

"... stupid names like Polemistés and Bucky.” 

_What?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a reappearance, and we see something of Steve's past. Tony feels out of his depth.  
> NB: tags have been updated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter update of the year! 🎉  
> Hope you enjoy, and we wish for everyone that the new year is so much better than this one!

He has a list. 

He has been trapped and bound for so long -- his mind pillaged and raped until nothing was left but a shadow following orders -- that being untied is daunting. He needs direction, or else he'll be lost and floating. 

His Pulchellus has given him the momentous gift of freedom -- and even more mind boggling: tenderness -- and James _will not_ squander that. His mission is simple: eradicate anyone who knows about the book of binding, because those are the ones that will track him and endanger Tony. 

The fools are easy to track. They think they're crafty, with their secret signs and elitist meetings under Hydra banners, but they're no match for James' skills. Never have been. But now he doesn't have to terminate some rival faction to further one of the power hungry sadists, now he can eliminate whomever he pleases. 

And please him it does. 

The man's pitiful pleading stops when his windpipe is crushed with a satisfying crack. 

He remembers this one. Standing to the side laughing when someone else made James do-

No. No more. He flings himself away from that line of thought, and focuses on the memory of Tony surrendering to him willingly, opening up so beautifully, as he hauls the body onto his shoulder and throws it into a dumpster at the mouth of the alley.

First one down. 

___________________________

Steve reels, physically stumbling backwards as Tony suddenly utters the name he hasn't heard in three centuries. 

_Bucky._

It just can't be. It can't. It can't and it's not!

"Mister Jarvis," Steve asks, voice tight as he forcibly denies his thoughts to take the path they did, "are there images of this _Bucky?_ "

He's aware he's bypassing Tony, undoing whatever it was that caused the young man to lean in and trust him, but this is too sudden. Too monumental. 

"This is all," the artificial intelligence answers and an image appears. No, a clip. In it, a demon appears from thin air -- seen from the side -- not far from where they're standing now. Steve recognises the outline of its horns and subconsciously tenses for battle. But where the Soldier usually is muzzled and dressed all in black, he's naked now. The demon raises from a crouch and looks disoriented, in pain. It needs a moment to gather itself, it seems. 

Steve realizes at the same time as the demon that it isn't bound, and he watches with horror how it takes a step forward. It's then that the demon turns its head to gather its bearings, and Steve gets a full frontal look of its face. 

_Bucky._

Steve is barely aware he sags to his knees, his legs simply unable to hold the weight of the knowledge. In the clip the demon, _Bucky,_ leaps through the air and jumps onto Tony, but Steve can't bear to watch anymore. 

"Stop," he whispers, "please…"

He folds in on himself, covering his face with his hands as the full horror of this revelation washes over him. 

  
  
  


“JARVIS, shut it down!” Tony shouts, watching in horror as the 6 foot plus frame of the guy who introduced himself as ‘ _warrior’_ falls to his knees in anguish. 

When the blond had shoved Tony away to go make demands of his AI, Tony had felt a dawning sense of horror at having let himself be manipulated so easily. Obviously the dude was just showing Tony affection because he was trying to get information out of him. And Tony, like an idiot, had fallen right into his trap. And that too, so soon after Sunset, so soon after Tony had caused major losses to his company because of her corporate espionage. 

This _angel_ , like all others, had just wanted something out of him and Tony had served Bucky up on a platter cause he couldn’t control his dumb mouth. 

He’d been frozen as he engaged in recrimination with himself only to snap out of it when he’d actually taken in the sight of the being in front of him. He’d expected smugness or triumph but there wasn’t even a shred of that heavenly wrath he’d embodied so well when Tony had first met him. No, this was the face of a man watching his life fall apart in front of him. 

The sound from the video cuts out as JARVIS complies - and damn is Tony not going to have words about taking orders from random men with his AI - and the apartment falls into a heavy weighted silence broken only by the hitching breaths of the being on his knees. 

Maybe Tony had it wrong, maybe it was just the shock that made him act like that, maybe – a voice snakes in through his thoughts that sounds unsurprisingly like Howard telling him he’s _pathetic, wake up boy, you really think a supernatural being who met you minutes ago could actually care about you? How desperate are you?_

“Sir?” JARVIS’ voice breaks through and Tony spares a thought for how his baby is grown cause he sounds so hesitant. As if he’s as out of his depth as Tony is. “I apologise, I didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction. I only meant to give the creature what he wished so he would leave.” 

With JARVIS’ words, Tony’s reminded of the AI’s namesake and the kindness he exuded. What would Jarvis do? Certainly not gawk at the person losing their shit without helping. 

“It’s fine, J. You didn’t know,” he replies as he steps up behind Polemistes and reaches out to lay a hand on his trembling shoulder. There’s a 60% chance he might lose this hand but he trusts JARVIS to deploy offensive measures if he’s harmed. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe. You know him, don’t you? You know Bucky... ” Tony trails off, uncertain what to say, if he _should_ say any more. 

  
  
  


_Oh God, what have you done? What have you made me do?_

Seeing Bucky's face after 288 years pulled open a valve and Steve is losing himself in the maelstrom. 

_Running through golden fields as fast as their short legs can carry them -- which in Steve's case isn't very far, but Bucky never teases him for it._

_Doubled over in pain from a punch to the gut, Steve sighs in relief when he hears Bucky coming for him._

_Watching Bucky leave with the men for the fields. Bucky turns and waves, smile bright and full of mischief._

_The tip of Bucky's tongue is pink where he sticks it out in intense concentration as he copies Steve's letters._

_Sneaking away from the harvest fest, they hid in the Barnes' hayloft. They tumble to the ground in a fit of giggles and Bucky rubs his back when Steve's laughter dissolves into a coughing fit. When Steve can breathe again Bucky's face is close, so close._

Steve feels his face get wet behind his hands, but still he's unable to stop his thoughts, faster and faster they go. 

_Sunken eyes in the villagers' faces. No one dares to look at him as they try to rebuild their lives on the ashes and the dead._

_A growth spurt Bucky never got to witness. Grim satisfaction he doesn't need Bucky anymore to break someone's nose. Guilt cloying at his throat at just that thought._

_Off to war. Taking ever greater risks because there's nothing to live for. Leading charge after charge into victory, instead of the oblivion he craves. Declared a hero. Dying from a fluke stray bullet fired in a victory dance._

_Waking up to a new name, a new body, a divine purpose. We need someone like you, Polimestès._

_A village in the mountains, eerily quiet, even from the sky. A thick blanket of thick snow covers everything, including the bodies. Too late._

_Following a trail of death and destruction. Getting closer and closer until Steve isn't too late, and fights the muzzled demon until he disappears for years again._

A cat and mouse game they have played for two and a half centuries. Steve was _made_ for that chase. 

He startles when someone touches him, but when he realizes who it is he uses Tony's voice and hand to tether himself to the present. 

"Yes," Steve answers, voice thick with emotion. He can't look at Tony, so he keeps his eyes on his hands on his thighs. 

"He was my friend…" _He was so much more than that. Bucky was everything._  
  


Tony feels like he’s intruding, on what he has no idea but it’s something so _personal_ and _raw_ and Tony feels out of his depth in a way he rarely does. Suffice to say he recognises the signs of an anxiety attack immediately, he’s no stranger to them. But he’s rarely in a position to comfort someone else rather than the one who hides when the anxiety hits and tries to grit and bear it. 

“You didn’t know… you didn’t know he was a - what he became,” he vocalises, coming to the realisations as he speaks, turning them into words of comfort - whatever paltry comfort someone like him can offer. 

It takes him a while to reconcile the image of this broken down being on the floor of Tony’s penthouse with the firm jawed sword wielding warrior but there’s something so visceral about his pain that’s hard for Tony to ignore. 

And maybe, it’s the words, the way this being calls Bucky his friend, the way Bucky himself looked like he was carrying the weight of the world in his eyes even as he fucked Tony into the mattress, maybe it’s the kindness Bucky showed him last night when the world only showed its teeth but Tony wants to wipe this look off the guy’s face. 

“He was here, you saw that, he’s - he’s okay. You didn’t - he wasn’t hurt when he was here. And he left of his own volition.” and yeah, that stings like the fresh wound it is as much as it did when he woke up this morning to an empty bed and god, was it only just this morning? 

“You - they sent you for him but you don’t have to hunt him, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You say he’s your friend, so you can stop him from - whatever it is he wants to do _without_ -” 

Tony swallows his words, a fresh wave of guilt coursing through him at the thought that he was sympathising with a demon that’s probably laid waste to cities, that Tony was the one to set him free. Should Tony even encourage this kind of merciful crap? How many more deaths are going to be on his hands? However Bucky might’ve been with him, does that erase the decades of bloodshed following his trail? 

What has he even gotten himself into?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony talk, there are some revelations, and the boys get a measure of each other.

If asked, Tony wouldn’t be able to tell how they got to this point. When faced with a mostly catatonic heavenly warrior, his mind must’ve run a subroutine he’d implicitly picked up from the Jarvises because somehow he’d strongarmed the guy into the nearest seat and left him there under JARVIS’ watchful eye as he dashed to the kitchen and started the kettle. 

It was barely used, the kettle, a gift his former butler had given him when he was shipped off to boarding school - a contraband that was a perfect symbol of Jarvis and Ana flouting the rules to care for Tony. He’d held on to it for purely sentimental value, busting it out only in the direst of times when he needed the comfort of the smell of steeping tea and a nostalgic routine that he’d learnt only through observation. 

Tea had been a staple in Jarvis’ routine to bring Tony out of his head, to soothe the aches his father’s words or mother’s absences left, to communicate his support when Tony felt adrift and bowed down by the demands of his name and genius. As he grew up, after Ana was gone, after Jarvis retired to his cottage, after he passed away in his sleep with Ana’s locket in his hand, after his parents, Tony still from time to time put the kettle on and longed for simpler times. 

It’s one of his closest guarded secrets, not even Rhodey knew about Tony’s little guilty pleasure. It’s his and his alone. 

He’s a little surprised at himself at how easily he’s doing this for some preternatural entity he doesn’t even know the real name of, but Jarvis brought Tony into his ritual and used it to comfort him. So, maybe he’s only paying that forward. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Jarvis’ passing which Tony missed during his alcohol fueled misery party after the whole Bain Tech business last week. Guilt can be a powerful motivator too, he finds. 

In any case, there’s tea to be made because if Tony doesn’t keep moving, doesn’t keep running through these subroutines as a way to comfort himself and maybe, maybe provide some comfort to someone else, then he’s gonna fall apart. 

Once the water boils, he pours it into the two mugs, over the tea bags. It’s a part of the ritual too, imagining Jarvis’ indignation at him using tea bags, and the lengthy rant that might follow. He can never justify the necessity of buying loose tea given the rarity of their use and moreso it brings a smile to his face every time he does this to momentarily revive his oldest friend even if it is through a lecture. 

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t notice the passage of time and fishes out the teabags to prevent oversteeping. Nothing worse than bitter tea. 

“How’s our guest, J?” Tony asks quietly as he grabs the two mugs. 

“In a similar state to how you left him, Sir. Are emergency medical services required? I have no protocols for guests of a non-human nature.” 

“Me neither, buddy. But we gotta make do with what we have.” 

It takes Tony jostling the guy with his foot for him to look up and he hands over the mug before taking a seat next to him on the curved couch, leaving a good five feet between them. 

Steve stares unseeing at the beverage in his hands, mulling over any hints he might've missed. Things his superiors have said or done to clue him in. 

"They must've known," he mutters to himself, this fact too big to hold in the privacy of his head. Any way he looks at it, he comes to the same conclusion: They knew who Bucky was. They couldn't have not known. They knew who Bucky was, and specifically elevated Steve for the purpose of hunting his own best friend. 

The level of betrayal and _cruelty_ is staggering. It leaves Steve reeling; teetering on the edge of sanity. 

_They knew._ They sent Steve out to hunt Bucky and put him down like a mangy dog. To be his best friend's executioner, no judge required. Never did they discuss how Steve could capture Bucky and bring him back to the light. Not once. _No one is beyond redemption_ , except apparently a kid from the Midwest who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Bucky was sold into slavery, not to some estate, but to Satan himself, _and it's all Steve's fault._

Was Steve elevated as punishment? Steve whimpers when the thought hits him he would've found out _after_ slaying Bucky. The idea of revealing Bucky's lifeless face when pulling off the muzzle to see what hideous creature hid underneath...

But why not send him to hell and be done with it? It doesn't make any sense.

Round and round his thoughts go. The image of the huge demon overlapping images of Bucky Steve has held onto during his darkest moments, and reverberating through his entire being one word: _Why why why?_

Shuffling to the side pulls Steve from his thoughts and he looks up, momentarily disoriented. His tea is cold in his hands, and next to him Tony is sitting cross legged under a blanket, his fingers manipulating an image made out of pure light. Tony's face is lit up, his eyes shining and his fingers flying. He looks nothing like a dreaded summoner of demons. 

Steve has to admit that he doesn't know anymore who's _good,_ who's _evil._ Everything he thought to be true sent topsy turvy in one fell swoop. What makes an angel worthy? What makes a demon evil?

"They told me they needed me." Steve says and wipes a hand over his face. He can't bear anymore to stay alone with his thoughts, needs someone to distract him.

Tony looks up when JARVIS uses a pop up notification on his hologram that He-Man is out of his catatonic state. He’s still slumped in the same posture, his hands around the mug of tea and Tony’s certain that he hasn’t even tasted the damn thing. 

He’d be a little offended but then did also leave the guy to have his crisis alone and had been working on plans for the targeting missile that had been rattling around in his head. He’d much rather be working on bolstering JARVIS’ code, making him take cyclic backups in offshore servers, giving him more control to protect himself in case something like what happened twice in the past two days happens again. But after Sunset ran away with some proprietary designs and more insider information than she should’ve, Tony needs to appease the board, to show them that he’s capable of leading the company. 

And the best way to please the board and their military contracts is to build more sophisticated things that go boom. 

In any case, even if he weren’t swamped with work, there’s no way he could’ve done anything to help the breakdown happening. It seemed to be mostly internal and Tony’s repeated calls to the guy had done nothing to garner a response, so he thought to give it some time while telling J to keep an eye on their guest. 

Tony barely looks at the time but he knows it’s been upwards of an hour, maybe more. He minimises the windows and places the tablet to the side.

“Oh hey, welcome back to the land of the living. You uh, doing okay? Should I reheat the tea? Get you a blanket maybe? Wait – what did you just say?”   
  
  


Steve blinks at Tony, unsure how to respond.

"I don't think I technically count as alive anymore? Cause I died." He wonders if that's true for Bucky too, and realizes he knows nothing about how demons are created. Can't involve anything pleasant. 

"Wait, you died? That's how you - I mean you were human before you were… a polemistes?" 

Steve understands he didn't have Tony's attention before, not like this. Tony's full focus is on him now, and it takes Steve further off kilter. He's used to being around beings that can literally see into your soul, but this is something else. Part of him -- the trained part -- wants to deflect and lie, but a new part wants to throw caution to the wind and see where it'll take him. 

"I was. Bucky was too." 

He smiles wistfully as a memory of him and Bucky playing hide and seek on the Barnes' farm resurfaces. 

“You knew him when you were human. Do you have a human name too? You remember your past but do you think Bucky does too? How did you two even turn into-,” Tony gestures at Steve expansively, “you know.”

"Don't know," Steve sighs and finally takes a sip of his drink. He almost answered Tony's questions, but if he goes after Bucky -- to save instead of kill -- he won't have the backup of heaven anymore, and he needs to keep his wits about him. "But I want to save him." 

He pins Tony with a gaze. "Is there anything he said or did that might be helpful?" 

Tony gives Steve a calculating look and there’s a few beats of silence between them before he responds. Not a kitten to try and handle bare handed, Steve reminds himself, however innocent Tony might look. 

“If he _is_ in fact a demon and he’s someone you wanted to hunt for causing widespread, how did you put it - _death and destruction_ , why should I help you just because he’s your friend? I mean, maybe he hurt me when he was here. How do you know he’s worth saving? What if he burnt the book that called him here? Does that mean he’s out there roaming around without a leash, hurting people?” 

Steve sits up straight, ready to defend Bucky -- who _of course_ is worth saving, how dare Tony imply otherwise -- when Tony gives him a morsel of information. Wittingly, or not? It feels like Steve has been drawn into a game of chess where the rules are fluid, and he studies Tony's face for any clues.

He hadn't known the Winter Soldier was bound by a book, and he's not sure what it means. 

"Creatures bound like that work under a compulsion. It means the words are needed to control them. _If_ he burnt the book, there's no telling what he'll do and it's imperative that we find him soon…"

Steve lets the implications hang between them, and observes Tony carefully. 

“So you’re saying whoever summoned him had the chance to control him using the book and if it’s gone, hypothetically of course, then he can’t be controlled. But can he be _saved_? Would he even _want_ to be saved? What if he likes being a demon? How do we know that there’s something worth saving other than your history, other than him leaving me unharmed - mostly, unharmed- this morning?” Tony gesticulates more, his speech growing more rapid with every word. 

He might try to hide it, but Steve can tell Tony's worried. He can't say it's for nought, and it's Tony's correction that makes his internal alarms go off. 

" _Mostly_ unharmed? What did he do… are you hurt?"

  
  


Tony chews on his lower lip as he decides how to respond. It’s a little startling to hear the concern in the guy’s voice. He doesn’t even know Tony and logic dictates that he be too worried about his _friend_ rather than someone he just met today. 

Tony’s more used to hearing, _what did you do_ rather than _what was done to you_. Still, it’s not enough for him to completely trust the angel either. He’s been testing him, Tony’s not gonna lie. There’s way too many variables in this situation and he needs to have more information before he goes and lays his own cards out on the table. 

He still doesn’t know whether he’s going to come out of this unscathed. 

A little vindictive part of Tony that is still hurting at waking up to an empty bed, at being used for a demon’s pleasure - despite how enthusiastically he consented -, at having his home broken into by an angel, at being wrung out for information wants to lash out and tell this entity exactly what he and his precious Bucky got up to last night. 

But he still has most of his impulse control, again debatable if he ever had that, and he decides to go with a less shocking answer. 

“Don’t worry your pretty blond head about it, he didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do,” Tony says, shrugging the shoulder with the bite mark on it. Yeah, that’s still hot as fuck. The memories of last night rush back in and Tony fights a smile. “There’s something to be said about demonic stamina. And before you bring out your sword again - no pun intended - I didn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to either. On the contrary, he was very, _very_ enthusiastic.” 

Okay, so maybe he can’t resist shaking up this virtuous being’s world view a little. It’s his lot in life to be the scandal so why not fucking own it? 

“I say mostly unharmed because your boy likes to leave marks.” 

Tony watches the shock on the guy’s face transform to anger before he tries to hide it - not the best poker face though, cause his anger is obvious in the clench of that jaw (you could cut someone on that jawline, _jesus_ ) and his fierce blue eyes that glare at Tony like he murdered his puppy. 

"I can't even begin to fathom what you're trying to goad me into, or what your ploy is, other than to distract me. So I'm asking you once: do you know where Bucky is?" 

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes. Looks like the angel stopped playing the game, which is kind of disappointing. Tony had liked their little back and forth, getting the measure of each other. It was almost like flirting. 

Instead, now there was just anger. Guess he didn’t like what Tony had to say. But that’s okay, Tony knows how to deal with anger. That little caring thing he tried to do earlier, well, that’s something he’s more uncertain with.

“There’s no ploy here, Captain Righteous. I’m not some criminal mastermind sitting here twirling my moustache with a nefarious plot. You wanted me to tell you the truth, well I am! You don’t like it, that’s your problem,” he says throwing his arms out in frustration. 

“Hell, I didn’t even know you lot existed until I read some Latin off some dumb book, I stole from my godfather’s bookcase by the way, when I was drunk. You wanna know where your precious Bucky is? Well, so do I cause the dude owes me for damages - both to the penthouse and my fucking sanity.” 

Tony watches as the angel gets a fire lit under his feathery bottom and jumps up to pace across the length of the couch, ignoring Tony completely which - rude. He’s almost tempted to interrupt but figures it’s better to let him get it out of his system. 

“So it was you who summoned him by accident. You didn’t bind him, and when he realized this he destroyed the book, which would explain the energy spike. Out of gratitude or whatever he stayed, but now… What would I do if I…” As he trails off, the warrior stops right in front of Tony, using all 6 feet plus of his height to look down on him. 

There’s a look on his face that is reminiscent of him holding his sword to Tony’s neck, full of what he’s presuming is heavenly wrath and yada yada yada. It’s something primal, something that causes Tony’s stomach to swoop. The last time a supernatural being looked at him like that, Tony got fucked six ways to sunday. He doesn’t think this one is going to go the same way, though. Could be the holier-than-thou attitude.

“Are you part of Hydra?” 

Tony hates the height disadvantage he’s at, even standing up there’s no way he’s actually gonna come anywhere above the dude’s chin but now, with him sitting on the couch, it’s extremely pronounced. So, he does the next logical thing and pushes himself up to stand on the couch so he can look the guy in the eye. 

“What part of I didn’t know you guys existed evades your understanding?” He asks exasperatedly, “What the fuck even is Hydra? The only one I know is a creature from ancient Greek mythology which I thought _you_ belonged to, so no surprise there if that’s real. Seriously, I’m a scientist not a magician or _energy manipulator_ or whatever.” 

Getting riled up, Tony tries to give weight to his argument by poking the dude in his rock hard chest for no other reason than the fact that his self preservation instincts, if they ever existed, have taken a long holiday. 

“I’m tired, hungover, and sore from having drunk athletic sex with a creature I never knew existed and honestly, I’m tired of you asking me questions I don’t have answers to. So why don’t you do me a solid, asshole, and answer some of mine instead?” 

The tense silence between them stretches long enough that Tony feels a little fear mixed with his indignation but then the guy nods to himself as if coming to a conclusion and eases back into his normal demeanour, dropping the scary angel schtick. 

“You’re in grave danger. We need to leave.” 

Before Tony can reply, the guy places a hand on his shoulder and Tony stumbles as he feels power rush through him, pulling him in every direction. He’s barely aware of his hands bracing themselves on the guy’s broad chest and the firmness of said chest is the last thought he has.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken once again from the Wright Brother's song 'Blood on my Name'. 
> 
> Come say hi to us at the [16+ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/AFTSGz)!


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